Statute of Limitations
by Helene Fyne
Summary: The statute of limitations has run out, and Claire would really like to feel again. One-shot. Rated M for Language and Themes.


**The Statute of Limitations**

It took exactly one hundred and eight years for Claire Bennet to forgive Gabriel Gray.

By that time, her family was dead and everyone she had ever really cared about had disappeared into the earth. Her father, mother, brother. Peter and Angela. All of them were nothing but old faded photographs and slabs of marble in green fields. Claire had even lost track of their families. She thought she might still be a great-great aunt or something, but what was the point of keeping track? None of them really knew her and her niece had died a week before. Of old age.

Claire took a drag of the cigarette she held in her hand, thanking God that they had never gone out of fashion during the "health revolution", just been marginalized and looked down upon. You could still buy them for the right price at specialty shops, even if the entire package was covered in health warning labels and they made you fill out a wellness survey when you bought them. Claire never really took the time. It wasn't as if she was going to get lung-cancer any time soon.

Across from the park bench Claire sat in, a mother's eyes widened at the tendrils of smoke coming out of Claire's slightly open mouth and the woman pushed her toddler hurriedly away in its air-cart. Claire laughed and took another drag. It was too fucking cold out to worry about whether the English Mama's thought she was a crazy delinquent or not.

She looked down at her hands and pressed the miniscule button on the little communicator she held. The holographic data screen expanded outward instantly, telling her it was fifteen past one and displaying her other options. Claire touched data-screen casually with one finger and it changed instantly, displaying her recent messages. She tapped the one she was looking for and read.

_Claire,_

_I'm glad you contacted me. I can be in London tomorrow. Meet me in St. James's park at one? _

_Gabriel._

The bastard was running late. Claire minimized the data and stowed the communicator it her pocket, taking another long drag on the cigarette and shrugging her shoulders at an appalled looking jogger who shook his head in disgust.

The English, she thought, really had the whole shaming thing down. While there was no law against smoking in public parks, the revolution had changed the outlook of most of the world's population when it came to things like drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol. Or anything that put impurities into the body, really. Many of the fast-food chains Claire had grown up with had been forced out of business and those which had survived only served boring things these days. Sometimes Claire wondered what she would do for a good old fashioned burger instead of the balanced tofu crap they served these days. It was great that the world was healthier, that international relations had been streamlined by the now enforced and sovereign ICC… but sometimes Claire just wanted to do something dangerous or unhealthy without being told it was harmful to do so. Maybe that was why she'd messaged Gabriel Gray three nights ago.

"Hello, Claire."

Speak of the Devil, she thought, turning on the park bench to look over her shoulder to where the voice had originated.

He was standing there, smart black trousers and sports coat perfectly unwrinkled, hands in his pockets as he stared down at her.

"Hi," said Claire, raising one hand to block out the sun and looking him straight in the eye. He hadn't changed in the last hundred years, but then again, neither had she. She'd stopped changing period at around the age of 21, though the exact day would have been hard to pin-point. Not that she was complaining anymore. At least she didn't have to worry about wrinkles or spreading hips, or whatever it was ageing women worried about.

"Mind if I sit?" Gabriel asked. Claire shook her head, motioning to the spot beside her on the bench, which Gabriel took gratefully.

They sat there for several minutes in silence before he spoke again. "Where did you get those anyway?" he asked, motioning at her cigarette, his nose wrinkling slightly.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you've bought into all this health-nut nonsense."

Gabriel shrugged. "It makes sense. I haven't seen an obese child in fifty years."

"Yeah, and I haven't seen the business end of a Snickers bar," Claire retorted.

Gabriel smiled ad leaned back against the bench, waiting until Claire had finished her cigarette and flicked the butt onto the ground before speaking again. "You're looking well," he complimented.

Claire shrugged heedlessly, glancing down at herself. She was wearing black tights and a black tank-top under a gray button up coat. Everything hugged her curves down to the thick black knee-high boots she wore. Thank god the world-change craze hadn't led to anything awful in the fashion industry.

"You too," she said. Gabriel inclined his head in acknowledgement and they went back to their silent companionship, watching a group of obvious tourists pass by with their cameras, ready to catch sight of Buckingham Palace.

Finally, Gabriel spoke. "I was surprised to get your communication."

"I thought you might be," Claire told him.

"If you don't mind me asking…" his voice trailed off.

"Why?"

"Yes, that." He said.

Claire thought about it for a few minutes. "My niece died last week," she said.

Gabriel winced, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry?" he tried.

Claire shrugged, puffing out a little breath of laughter. "She was one hundred and two, Gabriel. It wasn't exactly a surprise."

"Oh," he said lamely.

"It just got me thinking. I mean, everyone's gone, you know. They were gone before, but now they're really gone."

"They are. My ex wife's daughter died five years ago."

Claire glanced sharply at him. "You have kids?"

It was Gabriel's turn to laugh. "No," he said. "Chloe had a kid. We were only married for five years before she got her first grey hair and decided I was too young for her. Can you believe that? I was almost fifty and I was too young for her. A thirty year old woman. Any way. I kept in touch with her daughter, because I'd played Daddy for a few years. Sent presents and cards. Wedding gifts. Congratulations when she became a mother and then a grandmother… She's dead now though."

"I'm sorry," Claire said, because it sounded like the right thing.

"Don't be. I think I made her uncomfortable later in her life. I never saw her after her second marriage. I think not ageing freaks people out."

"It does that," Claire agreed, and they watched another group of tourists pass by. A little boy with slanted eyes and dark hair broke away from the group to chase after a squirrel, but his mother caught him quickly and handed him a water-bottle full of enriched water to keep him happy as she seemed to lift him telekinetically and set him in an air-cart.

"You'd think," Gabriel said after the group passed, "that with all of the other special's out there today, something like immortality wouldn't freak people out."

Claire made no comment.

Finally, Gabriel tried again. "Claire. Why did you message me?"

Claire sighed. "It's stupid," she told him.

"I'd still like to hear it."

"I guess…" she said, voice trailing off.

"Yes?" Gabriel probed.

"I guess it's because there's no one else around to hate you with me."

Gabriel raised a brow.

"I told you it was stupid," Claire said, blushing and reaching for her cigarette pack before remembering she had just used her last one.

"It's not stupid," Gabriel said, "I just don't understand it. Could you perhaps explain?"

Claire shook her head.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said, "It's like… I don't like you very much, but it's as if all the reasons I have to hold a grudge have gone. My Dad's not here to remind me you're a psycho anymore."

"I'm not. Anymore."

"So they say."

"Peter told me you understood…"

"Yeah, he told me about what happened. Behind the wall. How you saved Emma… I just… That didn't make what you had done before any easier to deal with."

"And it does now?"

Claire sighed. "I don't know. But it feels like the statute of limitations has run out."

Gabriel snorted, amused at that. "I wasn't aware there was one for parental murder."

Claire tried to feel something at the words, but couldn't. "See? Right there. You basically just confessed to having killed my biological parents, and I felt nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Not one damn thing."

"It's odd, isn't it?"

"A little. It makes me feel a little hollow. Maybe that's another reason I called you," Claire mused.

"And what would that be?" Gabriel asked, tilting his head to the side as he leaned back against the bench.

Claire shrugged again, turning to face him, hands folded over her stomach. "Maybe I want something from my past. Something that I can feel about. I have living relatives today. Great nieces and nephews, or whatever. But I don't feel any way about them. But I thought, maybe if I could see someone I used to feel about… I could feel again."

Gabriel could sense the longing in her voice. "And it doesn't matter to you that the way you felt for me was negative?"

Claire laughed. "Emotion is emotion, right? Besides, I told you I don't hate you anymore."

"What do you feel for me then?" Gabriel asked.

Claire frowned. "Right now? An amicable sort of reminiscence. Beyond that, nothing really."

Silence, and then… "Is this you trying to throw yourself off of things again?" Gabriel wanted to know.

"Maybe," Claire admitted. And then, candidly. "So, do you want to screw?"

Gabriel sat up straight, nearly choked on his own tongue as she continued to recline, watching him.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you wanted to fuck me."

Gabriel groaned, lowering his face into his hands as he hunched over.

"If you don't want to you can just say so," Claire told him nicely.

"I'm just trying to figure out where this is coming from." Gabriel said.

Claire straightened beside him. Sighed. "I want to feel, Gabriel," She said, "I want to feel something for someone again. I want to look at people and think of them as people instead of things."

"And you want me to screw you as a way of getting there?" Gabriel asked incredulously.

Claire chuckled softly. "Seems a little odd, yes. But I've been thinking about it since Caro's funeral last week. I just kept thinking about you. About how I used to hate you. About the day you kissed me at Arlington."

Gabriel tried to suppress the shudder that went threw him. "That wasn't one of my better moments." He told her.

"Yeah," Claire said, "But I just keep thinking about how much I absolutely hated you kissing me, about how I wanted to puke—"

"That's so flattering, thanks. Makes me want to climb right into bed with you."

Claire continued as if he hadn't interrupted. "And about the day you killed Nathan, how you told me I'd get over it and were all creepy and sexual—"

"Again, such flattery from your lips," he commented dryly.

"And I just keep remembering how then, when I was hating you so much, and you were touching me… I felt alive. I felt. Period."She stopped talking then and watched a young couple holding hands amble slowly down the path until they disappeared around a bend.

"And you want me to help re-create that." Gabriel said, matter-of-factly.

Claire just nodded.

And they sat there on the bench, the air chill around them as they both thought. Somewhere on the street level a siren sounded. To their right, a couple of squirrels frolicked. Tourists passed by, cameras at the ready and children in tow. Above them, a shuttle plane zoomed almost noiselessly from one part of the city to the other.

Finally, Gabriel sighed.

"After over one hundred years, this was not the conversation I was expecting to have with you when we finally spoke," he admitted.

"Sorry," Claire said, not really feeling so.

"How about we think about it?" Gabriel asked.

Claire raised one perfectly kept brow.

"Is this your way of saying thanks, but no thanks?" She asked.

Gabriel shook his head. "No," he said, "This is my way of saying 'lets think about the implications of screwing for a week before we actually do it."

Claire rolled her eyes. "For an ex-murderer, you're kind of a puritanical prude."

Gabriel chose not to comment.

"A week," He told her. "I'll be in the city the whole time. We can talk or whatever, but I'm not a performing monkey or a dildo."

"That's a terrible visual," Claire commented dryly.

"If in a week you still want to, we can give it a shot."

Claire thought about it. Gabriel watched her intently. Finally, she turned to him.

"Why not?" she said softly, "It's not as if we both don't have all the time in the world."

Gabriel nodded.

"What now," said Claire, "Do we shake on it?" She held her hand out towards him.

"I think that might be sort of awkward."

"Just take my damned hand, Gabriel."

So he did, and they shook on it.

Claire felt the warmth of his skin against hers.

"Later." She said abruptly. And then she was up and striding away from him, those black tight clad hips swaying and her blonde hair tumbled down the back of her coat.

Gabriel watched her go and wondered about the woman who couldn't feel as he leaned down, picking up the cigarette butt she had left on the ground and dropping it into a trash-bin as he left.

* * *

**A/N: Mel here. I wrote this piece because I was missing Gabriel and Claire, and the idea came to me. Also, I sort of wrote it to apologize to the lovely people who are still waiting on Collide and Agency. We will resolve these eventually... Right now is just a very busy time for Chuck and I. School and all that. Thank you so much for waiting though. We appreciate to uber-much. Also, I may end up expanding this to a seven piece story, but for now, it will remain a one-shot. I hope you are all having splendid weeks. :) Happy October!**

**-Mel. **


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